


Big Brother: Heaven & Hell, So Help You ME

by AgeOfAlejandro



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Archangel Lesbians, Big Brother, Blend of Canons, Gen, Humor, Whoops now I ship Micheal and Uriel, big brother is one of the things crowley is proudest of, essentially crack, gabriel is a mulish child, hence both fandoms, mildly inappropriate humor, not exactly an AU but the houseguests are human, of all the things he's done for hell, so much schadenfreude
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2020-07-17 07:20:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19949008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgeOfAlejandro/pseuds/AgeOfAlejandro
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley host a special edition ofBig Brother: Heaven & Hell, So Help You ME!when God decides She's had it with her beloved children's nonsense. Good and evil are but choices, and they will all suffer together until they learn their lesson.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for a prompt on the tadfield advertiser: God has had it with Her beloved 'kids' (meaning: Gabriel, Michael, Uriel, Sandalphon, Beelzebub, Dagan and Hastur) quarrelling non-stop and decides to teach them all a wonderful new lesson: shared living, human-style. In a Big Brother environment, so none of them get any ideas. Because "Good" and "Evil" are really just decisions, not fate, right?  
> (Aziraphale and Crowley can either have no idea and thoroughly make use of / enjoy their unexpected time unsupervised, OR they can join in on the fun by either being there as Spiritual Guides, since they already know that bit about decisions, as fellow Students... or they just drop by to gloat. xD)
> 
> I've added the Metatron bc he's just as bad and Adam Young will likely drop by as a special guest. Many thanks to @Milky_Etoile for her contribution of the team names and Northern_Spies for her excellent feedback!

For once in his long, long life, Crowley had exactly _zero_ questions about God's plan.   
  
Alright, technically he had one: _where do I sign?_  
  
"So let me get this straight, Lord," Crowley had said when God Herself showed up in the bookshop, squinting into the blinding light of Her manifestation. "You're sick of this nonsense and you want them live like humans for a little?"  
  
" _ **Well,**_ " She had replied, " _ **until they learn their lesson. However long that takes. And because I want the**_ **rest** _ **of My children to learn the same lesson, we'll be broadcasting this in both Heaven and Hell.**_ "  
  
" _Big Brother_ style?" Crowley had asked as a slightly malicious grin curled at his lips. The show was some of his best work, if he did say so himself.1  
  
God had hummed pensively. The vibration had rattled every piece of glass and organic cell for a quarter mile around. " ** _Yes, I think that will do nicely."_**  
  
Crowley had looked at Aziraphale and tilted his head toward God, silently asking, _well?_ Where Crowley went, so did too Aziraphale, and he nodded after a moment. The demon nodded and God said, " ** _And so it is done._** "  
  
Working out the rules and game elements was just as fun the second time and, frankly, much more satisfying. 

  
  
In every room and hallway in both Heaven and Hell, super wide screen flat TVs spontaneously manifested. Then, as the Archangels, Metatron, Prince, and Duke of Hell all inspected the nearest TV with both curiosity and concern, they disappeared with a pop.  
  
The screens all flickered on at once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 He valiantly pretended he couldn't see Aziraphale roll his eyes hard enough to lose one under a bookcase at the suggestion.[return to text]


	2. Chapter 2

"Hello and welcome to _Big Brother: Heaven & Hell, So Help You ME_!" Crowley grinned at the camera, his arms wide in welcome to the viewers. "I'm Crowley."  
  
"And I'm Aziraphale, and we're your hosts for this very special event." The angel stood at Crowley's side and nervously smoothed his waistcoat. "You see, God is really quite _tired_ of this 'Good and Evil are fate!' nonsense both sides have been up to. It's always been about choice, you know," he said, trying to remember to keep looking at the camera instead of the restless and angry contestants, who God had quite forcefully seated off to the side. "And She's decided it's time everybody learns that."  
  
"And also that humans aren't ants," Crowley chimed in helpfully, smiling a less-than-nice smile. "So She's stripped our contestants - because this is a game show by the way, my very favorite - of their powers and they get to be human until they learn their bloody lesson."  
  
Gabriel growled softly off camera and Crowley smirked.   
  
"So," he clapped his hands together, "let's walk through the rules, shall we? Or commandants, rather."  
  
God's voice light shone softly and Her echoed in the room and Crowley openly relished the contestants' discomfort. Gabriel's fear was particularly delicious, he decided.  
  
" ** _Firstly, thou shalt not attempt to leave the House, for there shall be no return and you_ will _be human. Second, you may not attempt to contact the outside world in any way. Third, thou shalt not attack thine hosts or another houseguest, upon pain of_ permanently _being human. Fourth, when the alarm goes off, you must get up. Fifth, all tasks are compulsory. These rules can be changed as necessary so don't abuse them."_**  
God went on, **_"Remember that all houseguests can win the prize of returning to their places. That will require that they learn to work together. In doing so, I expect you to learn to take moral responsibility for your choces. No one is fated to win or lose this game, and the longer you take to learn your lesson, the longer you'll be here. Consider this your get-along shirt, my children."_**

The glow faded and the camera panned to the right. All eight of the contestants - Gabriel, a tight jawed Micheal, Beelzebub, Dagon, an angry Hastur, Sandalphon, the Metatron, and Uriel were seated in chairs. They all looked remarkably human; no flies, no maggots, no shiny or grubby Not Human air to any of them. Gabriel in particular sometimes looked down at his lap in befuddlement when he wasn't glaring angrily at Aziraphale and/or Crowley.  
  
Crowley ambled and Aziraphale strolled back into the camera frame.  
  
When they reached their marks, Crowley tucked his arms behind his back and surveyed the group. "You'll be broken into teams by Aziraphale and each team will vote for the _opposite_ group's leader, and every week, you'll switch groups. You will be required to complete tasks both with your own team and with the other. Completing these tasks will earn you luxuries. Failure will result in penalties."  
  
"Each week," Aziraphale added, "team leaders will receive a box containing two items and an incomplete list of consequences for both. They may pick an item or reject the box. Their decision is final and theirs alone."  
  
"That decision will be made on camera in the Diary Room, which is the only place you may speak to God - should She deign to talk to you - and you _will_ be required to talk to God about, we hope, your moral development when asked. Which will be every night and you may also seek advice from either of us or Her in the Diary Room," said Crowley2 . He looked at the group over the top of his glasses. "Am I forgetting anything, Aziraphale?"  
  
The angel looked at the ceiling, his brows furrowing together for a moment. "Only one thing, I think." He looked back down at the assembled group. "If you chose to sabotage anyone or anything - and you will be presented with the opportunity - there will be consequences. What those are will vary with the severity of the offense, but they will range from a long response essay to permanent expulsion into the human world." He cocked an eyebrow at the houseguests. "Any questions?"  
  
A few of them shifted restlessly, glancing at the others, but no one said anything.  
  
"This is your _one_ opportunity to ask for clarification," Crowley said, tilting his head at the group as he looked at them over his glasses again. "Speak now or forever hold your peace."  
  
"Possibly literally," Aziraphale said, crossing his arms over his chest.  
  
After a long moment, Crowley and Aziraphale looked at each other and shrugged.  
  
"Very well," the angel said. "Time to break you up into teams." He walked up to the group and counted them off 1-2 style. "Everybody up and to the back!" When they all had moved, Aziraphale used a miracle to push the chairs apart, neatly dividing them in half. "Ones on this half," he said as he pointed to the camera's left, "and twos on the other."  
  
After they all settled into the new seating arrangement, Crowley laughed and pointed at the second group. It consisted of Gabriel, Dagon, Sandalphon, and Hastur. "Pornography La Vista. That's what I'm gonna call you." Aziraphale stifled a laugh in a cough and Crowley grinned at him. "And you," he turned back and gestured broadly at Micheal, Beelzebub, the Metatron, and Uriel, "will be team Holy Flies."  
  
"Do we get any say in this?" growled Gabriel as he narrowed his eyes at Crowley.   
  
"Absolutely not," the demon said with a sniff worthy of Aziraphale at his haughtiest.   
  
"Alright teams," Aziraphale said, trying mightily to hide the grin that wanted to crack his jaw, "let's take a tour of your living space. Up you get!" He led the way into the rest of the house, which was smaller than he strictly thought was wise but this was _God's_ game and he wasn't about to gainsay Her on this.  
  
"Hashtag Pornography La Vista," Crowley said as they crowded into the central living room, "you will live in this room," he pointed at the single room to the left of the central space. There were bunk beds and Crowley was personally looking forward to the inevitable fights over who got to sleep on the top bunk.  
  
"What, all together?" Dagon asked, her eyebrows raising incredulously.  
  
"With no door?" added Hastur as his lip curled up in disgust.  
  
"Yes and yes!" replied Aziraphale with a sunny smile.  
  
"Holy Flies, you'll be in the other room," Crowley said with a jerk of his thumb over his back towards the other space. "Both rooms are identical."  
  
"The Diary Room is that one," said Aziraphale, pointing to the north end of the common room. "Now, remember," he added, "you're being recorded every second you aren't in the bathroom - and please, don't make us add a rule about acceptable length of visits to the facilities - and that you're all in this together."  
  
"And the sooner you put on your Big Person Pants, the sooner this ordeal is over," Crowley said. His grin, which he did not bother to hide at all, was a little bit malicious. The demon gestured broadly at the group. "Let the fighting begin!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 22 Crowley offering advice when asked had been one of Her requirements if he was going to host the show. That was a price he was willing to pay. Unsolicited or unhelpful advice was, of course, very much to Crowley's demonic tastes and he would argue that it was still useful for their development. She also hadn't said he _couldn't_ and frankly if she didn't know him by now, that wasn't his fault. [ return to text]


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Crowley and Aziraphale are soft, food is reluctantly eaten, and the houseguests learn why every vote matters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so this now has a beta, northern_spies! NS is a delight, so many thanks to her for her great feedback!

The next morning dawned bright and early, and Aziraphale and Crowley turned up at the house before the alarm was due to roust the contestants out of bed. They crept quietly in. Aziraphale carried a tray with two drinks, the scent of chai and coffee trailing behind him, and Crowley had a pastry bag in one hand.

“Really, my dear, is this necessary?” Aziraphale asked softly as he set down the tray, eyeing Crowley’s bag[3].

“Not at all,” the demon replied and tucked his folded sunglasses into the breast pocket of his coat before he perched on the back of a couch. “But it’s going to be _fun_ once they realize what we’re eating.”

With a very put upon sigh, Aziraphale deposited Crowley’s espresso on the table near his hip. “Well, it’s not very nice _.”_

Crowley reached into the bag and pulled out a bearclaw. It was big and fluffy, scenting the air with vanilla and brown sugar, and he took a nibble. “And? I’m a demon, I don’t _have_ to be nice. Free will and all, angel.”

The angel rolled his eyes. “That’s _my_ breakfast,” Aziraphale said, holding out his hand for the pastry. “You wanted a cherry danish.”

“Aww, angel, can’t we split them?” Crowley went for the big guns and batted his lashes at Aziraphale[4].

The angel huffed and rolled his eyes. “Fine, you bloody nuisance.”

Crowley stuffed half the bearclaw in his mouth before offering the rest to its rightful owner. 

Aziraphale’s eyes widened in horror and he stopped mid-sip of his chai. “Oh, dear lord. Where _are_ your manners?”

“On holiday,” Crowley replied around his disgustingly large mouthful. “Belize, I believe.” He pushed Aziraphale’s half of the bearclaw at the angel more insistently.

“Why must you do these things?”

Crowley just smirked and pointed at the alarm on the wall. He started a silent countdown with his fingers as he chewed. Aziraphale rolled his eyes - he did know why Crowley did these things, after all - and took a sip of his drink.

Exactly on time, a horrible klaxon bell rang throughout the house, and Crowley’s lips curled up in another smirk as the houseguests squawked in surprise or groaned. A loud thud and a grunt announced that one of the houseguests had fallen out of their bed. The top one, if Crowley was any judge[5], and he was pleased to see the bunk beds were working exactly as intended.

The houseguests slowly dragged themselves out of the rooms. Almost all of them had dark circles under their eyes and they moved sluggishly. Crowley gestured at the curtains and they all shot back to reveal a large bank of windows on the east side of the room. The crisp morning sun streamed into the room and several of the houseguests groaned loudly as they all squinted in the horrible light. Hastur clapped his fingers over his eyes and growled something under his breath about killing wank-wing snakes. The Metatron rubbed his shoulder and Aziraphale felt a pang of sympathy.

“Poor dears. Did we have trouble sleeping?”

“What d’you _think_?” drawled Hastur, peering crankily at Aziraphale from between his fingers as he flopped onto the nearest couch. “Never slept before. Didn’t have a reason to know how.”

Uriel tilted her head at Hastur in agreement and rubbed her eyes. A few of the others grumbled and nodded.

Crowley shrugged. “Time to learn. Humans die without sleep and that’s what you are until you get your shite together.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes at Crowley’s language. “It’s also time for breakfast.” He watched Gabriel wrinkle his nose and Aziraphale pointedly cocked an eyebrow at him as he finished off his bearclaw.

“Sullying your _celestial temple_ ’s not really optional now,” Crowley said to him with a too toothy smile. He was going to relish the schadenfreude for the rest of eternity. 

Gabriel gave them both a haughty look and a sneer as he crossed his arms.

With a waved hand, a dark wooden table and accompanying benches appeared next to the Diary Room door with an audible pop. White plates and glasses followed. Crowley pointed both teams at the new furniture.

“Alright, we’re going to start you off with something simple so as to not upset your delicate tum-tums,” the demon drawled as he and Aziraphale ushered the shuffling group along, drinks in hand. “Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches on white bread.”

“Nothing complicated for now, but,” Aziraphale added, smiling sweetly at them as the houseguests pulled out the benches, “you’ll be able to earn tastier food down the line, once you get used to eating.” 

There was exactly zero cooperation between any of the houseguests as they started to sit down at the table. Hastur shoulder checked Gabriel hard enough to knock him over as the former angel attempted to sit down on the edge of the bench. Gabriel bared his teeth and lunged up to shove him back with enough force to rock the demon on his arse[6].

Crowley tsked from from where he lounged on the arm rest of the chair Aziraphale had miracled into existence. “Ah ah ah, gentlebeings,” he said, waving a finger at the pair of them as both Hastur and Dagon turned on Gabriel with a snarl. “Already earning demerits and we haven’t even picked this week’s team leaders.” 

Aziraphale channeled his inner exasperated teacher as he sat down next to Crowley on the actual seat of the chair. He looked over his glasses and crossed his arms, cocking one eyebrow. “No more shoving, Hastur and Gabriel. As a reminder, violence will get you expelled from the house.” He did not blame Dagon for being angry and she’d stopped when Crowley _tsk_ ed, so he refrained from reprimanding her. 

“And you remember what happens when you’re expelled, right?” Crowley asked as he raised his eyebrows meaningfully. “Apologize to each other.”

Hastur growled at Crowley, who just smirked. That kind of growl probably would have had some serious reverb if Hastur was still a demon, but fortunately, he was not.

Sandwiches appeared on the plates of all the others. They were cut diagonally, and smeared liberally with peanut butter and what might be grape jelly. A ninth plate piled high with more of them found itself in the middle of the table. The glasses filled with ice water, immediately glistening with condensation in the sun. 

“Tuck in,” Aziraphale said with a sunny smile, his eyes crinkling up in the corners.

“You’ll feel less like shite after you eat,” Crowley added, gesturing minutely. Their own breakfasts were transported from the other side of the common room and he handed the angel the bakery bag.

Aziraphale, being more civilized on the whole than Crowley sometimes bothered to be, materialized two plates on his lap and a knife. “You’ll get to eat when you apologize,” he said to two of the most stubborn creatures in creation as he slid the cherry danish out of the wax paper bag.

Hastur, being slightly less stubborn and also hungry, eventually growled, “Sorry.”

Accepting his half of the danish from Aziraphale, Crowley waved his hand at Hastur’s plate. A sandwich appeared and he stared at it for a minute before looking back at Aziraphale and Crowley.

Then he looked at the others, who were mostly staring at their plates. Sandalphon pushed at his food with a finger. “So, you just,” Hastur gestured at Crowley as he took a small bite of his danish, “put it in your mouth and bite?”

“And then masticate it?” Dagon asked, her eyes flickering between their own breakfast and Aziraphale as the angel carefully ate.

“Yes,” Crowley said, “and then,” he demonstrated, “you swallow.”

“I know that. I’ve seen humans do it,” Hastur grumbled, “but it seems so--”

“Fleshy? Inconvenient? Filthy?” Michael cut in as their nose wrinkled in disgust.

Hastur’s eyebrows slid together for a moment, as if he were caught on his back foot. “Don't mind filthy but yeah.”

“Oh, it’s actually wonderful,” Aziraphale gushed, his eyes lighting up. “So many textures and tastes, so many combinations!” He sighed a little dreamily, looking up at Crowley for support. “The tooth of bread, the sweet-tart of cherries.”

One side of Crowley’s mouth flicked up, amused and affectionate. “It’s...certainly worth it, sometimes,” Crowley agreed, eyes sliding from Aziraphale to the houseguests. He ignored every curled lip at the table. They could stuff it about Aziraphale and Crowley’s relationship. “Odd at first but I’ve never regretted eating. And,” he chirped at them, bright and devilish, “you don’t really have a choice right now.”

Reluctantly, Hastur put the narrow corner of the sandwich in his mouth while the others watched and slowly bit down. His face scrunched up in disgust and then relaxed by degrees until it had shifted into a more pensive expression. After he swallowed, he said, “I don’t hate it.”

Beelzebub shifted their attention to their own sandwich and reluctantly picked it up. The others slowly followed their lead, except for Gabriel, who still hadn’t apologized.

“Just get it over with,” Crowley said to him with a sigh and an eye roll. “Put on your big person pants and say ‘I’m sorry.’”

“No.” Gabriel smiled the kind of smile that promised future retribution.

“Suit yourself,” Crowley said, cocking his eye brow and shrugging one shoulder. He turned back to Aziraphale and deposited the rest of his danish on the angel’s plate.

Aziraphale polished off his original half of the pastry as the houseguests settled into their very first meal. “How long should we give them?”

“Half an hour or so?” Crowley replied, peering at the angel over the lid of his cup before taking a sip. 

“Very well, my dear.” Aziraphale nodded and checked his pocket watch.

They watched the beings at the table, idly noting the various reactions as a comfortable silence descended between Aziraphale and Crowley while they finished their own breakfasts[7]. Sandalphon seemed to have decided that peanut butter sandwiches weren’t so bad and was eating a second one. Dagon’s eye brows knit together as she reluctantly ate, and both Michael and Uriel looked determined to finish an unpleasant task. The Metatron was chugging through his breakfast and Hastur was on his third sandwich before too long. Gabriel, bloody minded as always, sat with his arms crossed and clenched his jaw.

Aziraphale retrieved his pocket watch. “It’s time,” he called the houseguests. The angel smiled at them as he closed the cover with a click and tucked it away. “You may keep eating if you desire but we will be moving on to selecting this week’s team leaders.”

The demon stood and sauntered toward the table, Aziraphale on his heels. He watched Hastur consider lunging for him, probably still angry about Ligur and let his lip quirk up when Hastur reined himself in at the last second. “Alright, you’ll be selecting each other’s leaders for this week by vote in your respective rooms. You will be allowed to discuss it with your own teammates, but if there’s a tie, Aziraphale or I will be the breaker.” He smirked and cocked his hip. “I will probably vote for the funniest option, just so you’re aware.” 

“Perhaps try not to need us,” Aziraphale suggested, raising his eyebrows as he tucked his hands into his trouser pockets. “Take your breakfast with you to your rooms if you like.”

Reluctantly, the teams separated and filed into their rooms. Aziraphale and Crowley separated and each took up a post by the doors. Crowley, a master at lounging on any surface, regardless of gravity, leaned against the corner of #HolyFlies’s door jamb and crossed his legs as he smirked at Aziraphale [8]. The angel smiled and shook his head before waving his hand at each room; a ballot and a pen appeared on each bunk.

As Hastur trailed in behind the rest of #HolyFlies, he gave Crowley a murderous look. "Don't think for a _second_ that I've forgot about what you did to Ligur."

"Didn't think you had," Crowley replied, lacing his fingers together over his belly. "Not the kind of thing you forget, is it?, watching your partner melt like so much hot plastic. You'll have to make your peace with me to leave the house." He shrugged and raised an eyebrow over the edge of his shades.

Aziraphale pulled out his pocket watch to check the time. “You will have a total of twelve minutes. Ten minutes to discuss and two minutes to finalize your votes. Move at your group’s pace but if you fail to make a decision by the end of the time allotted, we will decide for you.”

Crowley tucked his hands into his trouser pockets and bumped his brows at his team. “So please, take your time.”

Both teams immediately erupted into ferocious arguments. Plots were hatched, schemes were schemed, and teams were hopelessly divided as absolutely no one remembered what they were supposed to be learning[9]. Aziraphale gave Crowley a look across the hall that was equal parts mortification and amusement, and the demon gave him a lazy little smirk in return as Beelzebub vociferously argued that anyone was preferable to Gabriel because wouldn’t they all be happier if the violet eyed bastard was knocked down a peg or eight?[10] [11]

#TeamHolyFlies’s spat came to a halt like a train coming into the station. Beelzebub raised their eyebrows pointedly and fell silent after making the suggestion, Uriel tilted her head at the demon and paused, and Michael followed suit a moment later. The Metatron brought up the caboose and bumped into the silence of the other three before he came to a reluctant stop.

Michael cocked their head and looked to Uriel. Like many millennia old partnerships in Heaven, Uriel and Michael could have an entire conversation without uttering a single syllable. Crowley was reasonably certain by the end of that expressive exchange that they were in agreement.

The Metatron’s face scrunched up in a moue of distaste. “Who does that leave but two demons and _Sandalphon_?”

“Hastur needs a peg or two taken out from under him,” Beelzebub replied dryly. “Dagon or Sandalphon.”

“Sandalphon,” Uriel said decisively. Michael shrugged and nodded.

“Very well,” Beelzebub said and looked at the Metatron.

“Gabriel,” he insisted.

Michael rolled their eyes and climbed to their feet, giving Uriel a hand up. Beelzebub followed suit and the Metatron grumbled at the other three. He didn’t bother to get up from Uriel’s bunk bed.

Crowley watched the three cast their votes before he wandered into the room and miracled up a cardboard box to collect the ballots. “Alright, gentlebeings, give me your paper when you’re ready.”

Uriel folded hers up and handed it to Michael, who paused mid clamber up the bunk bed ladder to drop the ballots into the demon’s box with a sniff. Beelzebub, ever the Prince of Hell, lazily held theirs out between two fingers for Crowley to come fetch. He elected to summon it instead with a crooked finger and gave them a slightly over toothy smile. The corner of Beelzebub’s mouth curled in a brief smirk.

“Do you plan to vote?” Crowley asked the Metatron, leaning against Uriel and Michael’s bunks for the express purpose of annoying them.

He sniffed. “I abstain.”[12]

Crowley exchanged a coolly amused smirk with Beelzebub. “If you insist.”

“Two minutes left! Cast your ballots!” Aziraphale called as Crowley exited the room and crossed the hall to stand with the angel. “Has your team finished?”

The demon propped the box up on his hip and nodded. Crowley retrieved a ballot and unfolded it one handed; he recognized the jagged handwriting as Beelzebub’s. They had of course voted for Sandalphon. Aziraphale took the box from him and Crowley smiled at him as he fished out the other two. He glanced at them and nodded again. “The Metatron abstained,” he said. “Otherwise it’s unanimously Sandalphon.”

Aziraphale’s eyebrows raised and he waved his free hand at the room, probably to give his team their ballots and pens. “Really? That’s...quite interesting.”

“Isn’t it?” Crowley’s lips curled up in a smirk. He pointed at #PornographyLaVista with his chin and stuffed his team’s ballots in his back pocket. “What about your lot?”

“Mm, well,” Aziraphale sighed as the raucous disagreement continued behind him, “they seem to be split along party lines, so to speak. Michael’s the choice for Sandalphon and Gabriel. The other two are pulling for Beelzebub, of course.”

Crowley rubbed his hands together. “Showing your lot the footage will be a _delight_. That’s not how mine made their decision at all.”

“Oh?”

“Not even the Metatron argued against the fact that Gabriel needs to be taken down half a dozen pegs. Beelzebub said ‘anyone but Gabriel’ and the other two took about ten seconds to support her.”

Aziraphale shook his head and shifted the box to his hip nearest #HolyFlies’s room. “You probably ought not encourage their worst impulses so much,” he chided.

“It’ll be like the old days, angel,” Crowley said, bumping Aziraphale’s shoulder gently. He grinned. “I tempt, you thwart. It’s never failed us yet.”

A smile curled one corner of Aziraphale’s mouth up and his warm eyes were gently affectionate. “I’ll have to step up my thwarting, then.”

“Balance is the point, isn’t it?”

“It is,” the angel replied, bumping Crowley’s shoulder in return. Aziraphale checked his pocket watch and closed it, turning around to lean into his team’s room. “Time’s up. Did we make a decision?”

Crowley peeked over Aziraphale’s shoulder and grinned. They were all so _very_ angry, opposing sides perched on opposite bunks. “Those faces say it all, don’t they?”

Aziraphale gave an exaggerated sigh and walked into the room. “Turn in your ballots, please.”

He gave them a long moment to drop their ballots in the box but not one of them moved. Aziraphale offered the box again to both sides. When none were forthcoming, he looked at all of them over his glasses. “Really? Not one?”

“Nope,” Gabriel replied, popping the plosive crisply, not looking away from Hastur. If looks could kill, there’d be a hospital’s worth of blood dripping down the walls, just from the way the two of them were staring at each other. 

“Going once, going twice,” Crowley said, watching the scene unfold with raised eyebrows as he leaned into the room

“Gone,” Aziraphale finished. He sighed and turned back to Crowley.

“Well then,” Crowley said, tapping his fingers on the door jab and smiling a proper devil’s smile again. “Paper, scissors, stone for the vote?” he asked the angel.

Aziraphale narrowed his eyes at Crowley. “You cheat at that.”

“Do not.” 

“Yes, yes you do,” Aziraphale replied with an eye roll. He fished a coin out of a pocket and held it up between his thumb and index finger. Unlike winks, there were relatively few ways to legitimately misinterpret the angel’s gesture.

“Fine,” Crowley sighed.

“Call it,” Aziraphale said the moment the coin was in the air.

“Tails.”

It spun in a high, glittering arc and Aziraphale snatched it out of midair. “Tails.”

After so many millennia, Crowley was sure Aziraphale knew exactly who he’d picked to lead #HolyFlies the second he smiled, and the angel laughed when he bumped his brows

Aziraphale clapped. “Very well, everyone, now that that’s settled, please head out to the common area so we can announce the results.”

Crowley dropped his ballots in the box as the angel passed him at the door and then crossed the hallway. Knocking on the door frame, he said, “Oi! Time to announce the winners in the common room.”

Aziraphale and Crowley had parked themselves in the narrow space behind the dark oak table against the wall as they waited for the houseguests to make their way into the sitting area. #HolyFlies settled on the blue sofa with a minimum of fuss but #PornographyLaVista was another matter entirely. 

Hastur and Dagon were the first to be seated on the red couch, and Hastur did his level best to imitate Crowley’s extremely practiced sprawl. He left enough space for Dagon’s comfort but unless Sandalphon and Gabriel were willing to sit on him, there was no way they were all going to fit on the couch. 

Gabriel took one look at the Duke and stationed himself just out of the corner of the demon’s field of vision, right where he’d be the most irritating. It was remarkably petty and Crowley admired it. As the demon suspected was perhaps the norm for the other angel, Sandalphon stood slightly behind and to the left of Gabriel.

Aziraphale turned and nudged Crowley with his elbow. “Ready, dear?”

The demon pushed off the wall he’d been leaning on and sighed. “Think so.” Crowley pushed the box over to Aziraphale and a _you first_ tilt of his head.

The angel smiled at him before reaching into the container for all three ballots. After unfolding them, Aziraphale sighed. “Team Pornography la Vista,” he said as he cast a brief but baleful look at Crowley, “we will now count the votes. One for Sandalphon,” he said and handed it to Crowley, who presented it like the letter/prize woman on _Wheel of Fortune_ to make sure everyone could read Beelzebub’s spiky handwriting. 

“Two for Sandalphon, three for Sandalphon.” Crowley showed both ballots again in the same ridiculous, showy manner. “And one voter abstaining.” Aziraphale looked at the angel in question. “Sandalphon, you are now team leader for,” he sighed again, “Pornography la Vista.”

Sandalphon’s eyebrows knit together and he looked to Gabriel for reassurance. “Really?”

“ _How?_ ” asked Gabriel, looking over his shoulder at Sandalphon. His squinty expression was a blend of indignation and condescension.

“Leadership positions must be _earned_ ,” Aziraphale said to Gabriel, in that overly sugary way he had sometimes. Crowley knew that tone. It really meant the angel had somebody he did not particularly like pinned like a butterfly specimen but that he was also too well bred to express his distaste directly[13].

“...I didn’t earn it, though?” said Sandalphon as his eyes flickered between Aziraphale and Gabriel.

“Perhaps Holy Flies thinks you have potential,” Aziraphale replied, giving the new team leader an encouraging smile. 

Sandalphon’s eyebrows knit together again and he blinked at the other team with confusion. “Alright?”

“Good enough,” Crowley said with a shrug. “Moving along. _Unfortunately_ \- for you, Holy Flies,” he gestured broadly at the other team, “ - Pornography la Vista failed to turn even one vote.” The demon flipped over the cardboard box and an extremely confused moth flew out as he shook it. As Michael glared at Gabriel and Sandalphon, Crowley grinned like a fox in the hen house. “I won the coin toss, therefore _I_ get to pick your leader this week.”

“God help us all,” the Metatron muttered, looking at the ceiling.

“ ** _No,_** ” God said, lighting up the sitting area for a moment. Crowley suspected She was staring very hard at the most recalcitrant houseguests before She faded away.

“Well then,” Aziraphale said after a moment of complete silence. He gave Crowley an awkward smile[14]. “Who… ah, who did you pick, my dear?”

Crowley’s nerves settled as the angel rested a hand on his shoulder blade and the demon pretended to think. “I’m going to say…” he tapped his nails the table, rapid fire, “Beelzebub.”

Gabriel’s eyes snapped to him, God’s visitation already forgotten. “Of course,” he sneered.

Beelzebub themself tilted their head minutely but otherwise maintained their usual flat expression. Michael and the other angels exchanged looks briefly, looking none too pleased with Crowley. Crowley was pleased as punch about every bit of this.

“Beelzebub is the only demon on their team,” Aziraphale pointed out. “It’s not unfair, really.”

“Even if Beelzebub weren’t,” Crowley replied, raising his hands in a Gallic shrug[15], “you _had_ a chance to decide and you squandered it. Now you have to live with that choice. That’s how free will works.”

“What do Americans say? ‘Rock the vote’?” Aziraphale chimed in, a little smirk dancing around the edge of his smile. 

Crowley rather enjoyed the waves of annoyance rolling off the celestial members of Holy Flies and Gabriel. He sighed contentedly. 

“Oh,” said Aziraphale, “I almost forgot. Team leaders, you have garden privileges.” He gestured at the west side of the common room and a door appeared in the wall. “You may go into the garden as you please but you _must_ stay within the confines of the fence.”

“The rest of you lot,” Crowley said, “may only go outside when it is part of the task unless you earn that privilege at a later time.” He clapped his hands once, and added, “Alright gentlebeings, the rest of the day is yours to get used to being human. Sorting through closets for clothes, discovering the wonders of shitting--”

“-- _Really_ , my dear?”

“-- sleeping, staying hydrated - that sort of thing, There’s a task tomorrow morning so use your time well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3 Hungrily eyeing the bag, mind you. His objections were, shall we say, on general principle rather than genuine sentiment.[return to text]
> 
> 4 Crowley was very grateful the cameras were not active in the common area without the houseguests present because the _horror_. He might not be one of Hell’s own anymore, but he was still a bloody demon. He had an image to maintain.  
> [return to text]
> 
> 5 He was. [return to text]
> 
> 6Viewers in Hell immediately erupted in the chant all educators dread: “FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!” [return to text]
> 
> 7Comfortable for them, anyway. [return to text]
> 
> 8Sometimes Aziraphale came home to the demon sprawled on the ceiling or upside down like a particularly bendy vampire.  
> [return to text]
> 
> 9God sighed hard enough to accidentally create a new galaxy. [return to text]
> 
> 10This was, in all of Heaven, Hell, and the House, the only thing every single soul could agree upon[return to text]  
> 11Crowley had not seen them care about anything this much since they’d clawed her way up to the rank of prince. He’d wondered briefly in those days if Beelzebub were about go toe to toe with Lucifer.  
> [return to text]  
> 12Hell thought this was hysterical. Heaven mostly yelled like it was a bad ref call at a sportsball game.  
> [return to text]
> 
> 13So he was passive aggressive about it instead.[return to text]
> 
> 14Even if God wasn’t staring at _you,_ [return to text]
> 
> 15A Gallic shrug is a sometimes rude gesture that has many meanings. Among these are I don’t know, _it’s not my fault,_ and _I disagree,_ all wrapped up in arms, shoulders, and context. Here it means _this is not my problem_ and _you’re an idiot._ [return to text]


	4. This is not a chapter

This is me dropping by to alert y'all that I haven't abandoned this story, I'm just up to my eyeballs in work and have precious little energy for anything creative. Hopefully I will have time and energy over Christmas and in the new year to work on this, but in the meantime, you'll have to make due with my apologies.

**Author's Note:**

> If you have any suggestions for games/tasks/Pandora's box/other things you wanna see, please do feel free to make them!


End file.
